A Potion Master's Perspective
by SeverusLuciusAbraxasMalfoy
Summary: What was going through the Potion Master's mind when he was on the other side of the story? What was he thinking at that time? I try to put in words the thoughts of one Severus Snape. Please Read & Review! Tell me what you think...
1. Chapter 1

**A Potion Master's perspective- 1.**

"That boy, that foolish, foolish boy!" Severus growled to himself as he watched, after a mere split second of hesitation, the boy leap to his feet and dash off after the silver doe.

"Hopping off, beyond the protections, not a care for his life, or others'," he muttered to himself.

"Ah, but that was what you counted on," that snide little voice inside his head said, not without a hint of triumph, "how is it that you expect something of him of him and then you rue when he meets your expectations? Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

"I'll appreciate your shutting it, right about now, thank you very much." He snorted inelegantly. It seemed very much like insanity to be discovered arguing with a voice in one's head.

"I'll thank you Albus, in your next life, to kindly incinerate me if I ever am daft enough to come to you." Severus could almost feel those dratted blue eyes twinkling with mirth and amusement.

"Albus," he whispered to the night, "how am I ever going to forgive myself? How am I ever going to forgive you for asking that of me?"

He shook himself back to the moment. There was no time for self flagellation now, thought the need for it was overwhelming. In the few moments he had lost his attention, the brat had disappeared.

Severus went cold. He could have sworn seeing the boy just then. Frantically looking around, relief flooded him when he saw the boy approaching the doe at the edge of the clearing.

In the silvery glow of the Patronus, Potter's form was almost ethereal. His skin glowed pale, but the eyes, Oh! The eyes! How they burned. Curiosity, thrill, fear and something else Severus could not understand, filled them, and brought the whole focus of Severus' world into that pale bespectacled face.

"More gaunt and worn than before," that voice said, "the boy has been through too much already, and this is yet the beginning. He's just a boy, Albus," the words rang through his ears.

Hastily, Severus pushed aside all other thoughts and panicked. What if the Patronus had spoken while Severus had been lost in those emeralds? Patronuses reflected the emotions of the owner. He briefly wondered if that concern and sympathy he had felt toward the brat had been reflected on the doe. He chuckled at the thought of Potter's reaction if he heard the Greasy Git's voice through the mouth of that beautiful and elusive creature, and quickly squashed that train of thought. Potter would probably Avada Severus before the boy even registered what he was doing, shattering his innocence, splintering his soul.

"And what of my soul, Albus?"

Severus briefly closed his eyes and concentrated on quelling the pain and burning that his own words evoked within him. _**Broken**_, that was the word. He silently berated himself for being a soppy fool. "Get to work!" he snarled in his mind, and the doe disappeared into a wisp of silver nothingness.

Potter seemed at a loss to see the doe gone. He stood a moment, blinking at the spot it last stood. Then it hit him, and he could not, for a moment, cover the panic that flitted across his face. It was replaced soon by a calculative look, as Potter figured out the odds and looked around, half expecting hooded figures to come screaming and blasting curses at him. Severus was sorely tempted.

As Potter glanced at the frozen lake by his feet, he caught the glint. "The last horse crosses the finish line," Severus sneered, as understanding, the excitement, flooded the boy's face. The look of pure joy that filled that face seemed to take years off. Severus caught himself before he sighed loudly. "Careful," he warned himself.

Severus laughed silently as the solution materialized in that tiny brain, and the look of 'are you sure there is no other way?' scrunched up Potter's face. The insufferable Boy-who-lived-to-annoy-the hell-out-of-the-Dark Lord-and-Severus cracked the ice, and taking a deep breath, plunged into the water.

"Harry!" Severus said in a half whisper and took involuntary steps forward, closer to the boy, now blurry beneath the icy surface of the lake. Something moved, and someone was calling out, making Severus turn sharply toward the commotion. The Weasley boy was rushing towards the water's edge and, for one terrifying moment, looked straight at the spot where Severus stood. He slowly released the breath he didn't realize he was holding, when the red headed boy moved swiftly to the water. Potter was thrashing and choking beneath the surface, and it tore at Severus' heart to just stand there and do nothing to help. Severus cursed at himself for choosing such a masking spot, though he knew it was all for the best.

Severus heaved a sigh of relief when the Weasley boy managed to drag Harry out of the water and get him breathing. He didn't half care if he was discovered now.

"The boys will probably think I was here to spy on them or capture them, either way," he thought bitterly. The loud squawking of "Are you MENTAL?" in the redhead's voice shook Severus out of his moment of wallowing in self pity. He shrugged mentally.

They were talking animatedly and gasping for breath at the same time. "Gryffindors," he snorted. Severus realized they would be figuring out where the Patronus came from, and suddenly, Severus felt tired. His work here was done.

Severus Snape drew his cloak about him tightly, as if it would protect him from the dark feeling of sorrow he felt upon thinking of the reasons for all these cloak and dagger games, for his skulking around, like a 'giant bat', as the students often called him.

The boy hated him and so did the Order, not to mention the non-evil part of the wizarding world. Minerva, the closest thing he had to a friend, after Albus, was ready to murder him. Sometime, he really hated Albus. He truly did.

Severus stilled all movement, seeing that the boys were hesitantly looking toward where he stood. Hurriedly, he erased all evidence of his having been there, as he rose into the air silently. Handy thing that, to be able to fly without a broom. He made a mental thing to thank the Dark Lord for it. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the image of Spinner's end, and apparated noiselessly.

Only when he had landed in the midst of his dusty, dim living room, and heard the rodent's high nauseating tone calling out to him, did he realize something. At the clearing, he had called Potter by his given name, twice.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Potion Master's Perspective- 2**

They had arrived months ago.

He had told Albus in no uncertain terms that this event was not, by a far cry, a good idea. Not at all.

Yet the meddling old coot had coaxed (confounded, Severus insisted) the ministry into rejuvenating that blasted 'competition'. Albus had said that he had managed to make that word sound like a curse. The resounding slam of the door had reached the dungeons.

Severus had stalked the hallways, deducting points and snarling at anyone who dared to even appear in his line of sight. By the time he had calmed down, almost a hundred points had been lost by all the houses.

All houses but Slytherin.

He mumbled out the words that would return the points to the houses, under his breath, half hoping that the castle would ignore him. He was a bastard, but he was not an irrational bastard, for the most part. But when it came to Gryffindor, he shook his head. Gryffindors deserved to lose points for being such dimwitted creatures.

He sighed and thought of the day when he would happily be able to call Malfoy the sniveling little ferret he really was. That always made him feel better.

He smirked at the memory of Moody "teaching" Malfoy a lesson. Malfoy did make a nice little ferret. Had Minerva not intervened, Hogwarts would have been witness to a very rare sight, of one Severus Snape laughing. Apart from the shocked faces and fainting spells, he would have probably compromised his cover. He still had former Death Eaters' children around.

There were warnings, signs everywhere. Albus had seen them, and so had the centaurs. Severus had felt them. The Dark Mark had started to prickle, after fourteen blessed years of relative peace, far too often to write it off as co-incidences.

Severus did not believe in co-incidences.

He rolled back his left sleeve and looked at his Mark. His one mistake.

He could not stop the disgust that overwhelmed him. Severus cast his teaching robes aside and slumped heavily into his favorite armchair in front of the hearth. The weather had grown cooler off late, and contrary to popular belief, Severus did prefer the sun. He just was not at liberty to spend his spare time basking like a cat in the sunshine. Severus rarely had any spare time.

He smiled, mentally ticking off all the names that the students had conjured for him: Greasy Git, Giant Bat, and Vampire (?), among the more popular ones. A cup of tea appeared at his side, and he picked it up.

He loved magic.

The elves made sure that he had his tea; it was as if they sensed his needs. He had been quite amused at the appearance of a mug of hot chocolate, marshmallows and all, one evening after a particularly nasty day. "If I didn't know better, I'd be led to think that those infernal elves cared for me," he said to no one in particular.

House elves were always falling over with the need to please, no matter how terrified they were of a person they served. It was an anomaly actually.

The room filled with bitter laughter. "No one cares for you, Severus," he assured himself. No one but Albus and Minerva. The rest of the staff were friendly enough, though he never did any more than be courteous and civil to them. He thought they were too terrified to complain at his assumed callousness. Only the Headmaster and Minerva took the trouble to bear and breakdown his prickly exterior. All carefully crafted walls.

"Are you keeping people out, or yourself in?" he was asked one day, a year into his teaching at Hogwarts, by a very annoyed/amused Transfiguration teacher. Severus had been momentarily at a loss for words, and a small smile had bloomed on her face. She actually had the gall to chuckle when Severus had stalked out of the Great Hall, muttering about "insufferable Gryffindors."

Minerva and Severus had shared an evening of chess, once a week, ever since. Also contrary to popular belief, Severus did have a life, however limited, outside of Potions and terrorizing students. Sure he loved Potions, but even he had to admit a difference between loving and obsessing. That reminded him of his promise to replenish Lupin's Wolfsbane stocks.

Thoughts of the Werewolf brought back the memory of how Albus had been annoyed with Severus for "letting slip" Lupin's condition to the student population, though in the end, Albus did grudgingly agree that it had been somewhat necessary.

"I have not worked this hard to keep that idiotic brat alive, only to be turned werewolf Albus!" Severus had thundered, "have you lost your mind, you doddering old fool?"

Needless to say, Albus had been shocked into silence. Once he had realized he had just insulted the Headmaster, Severus' temper had deflated and he had tried to look contrite.

A very difficult task when one felt no remorse, whatsoever.

"I agree Severus," the Headmaster had spoken softly, while said person had found a piece of lint on his robes suddenly very interesting. After a moment, the Headmaster had continued into the silence, "You look like a schoolboy sorry for having been caught eating sugar quills in class, though I suspect no guilt for actually eating them." Severus had jerked his head up and scowled; only causing Albus to laugh.

"Lemon Drop?"

"Bah!" Severus brought himself to the present, hoisting himself out of the chair, to retreat to his bed chambers. "Tomorrow," he promised himself; he would talk to Albus. There were some very important things to be discussed.


	3. Chapter 2 point 5

A Potions Master's Perspective – 2.5

The Potions Master sneered at the lot of raucous students milling about. Black robes intermingled with red, blue, green and yellow.

A nearby group of students burst into laughter, only to be silenced by the glare Severus sent their way.

It was hardly a party.

The whelps did not understand the gravity of the situation. It was all just a game for them.

A surge of annoyance went through him when he spotted Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody standing away, in the sidelines, his magical eye zooming as if by its own accord. Seeming to sense his gaze, Moody's eye fixed itself to watch him, followed by the other eye, and for the tiniest moment, Severus saw intense hatred flare, before it was masked. He supposed his own non committal gaze reflected none of the rage, resent or hate he felt towards the man. He respected the man's ability as an Auror, the best damn one that farce of the MLE had once had; arrogance and paranoia aside.

That little voice in his head said "Kettle, meet Pot," and Severus largely ignored that voice.

Severus usually never turned away first from a silent battle of wills, but that was not to be. His gaze was averted, distracted by tiny movement. Moody's tongue flicked out and back in again, akin to a lizard's habit. Moody looked away, noticing the small frown that graced Snape's face.

"I've never known Moody to have a tic," Severus mused; he should know, having spent weeks glaring up into that disfigured face, as Moody tried to pry information from him. Severus shuddered a little at the memory.

He knew Moody. His face, his sneer, the disgust in his eyes when he spoke to the Death Eater. "Just another one from the scum of our world," he would never forget. Nor would he forgive.

Yes, he knew Moody.

And the Moody he knew never had an involuntary tic. He did suppose that over the years he could have developed one. The man was half insane anyway. But the timing seemed very strange. Had he not seen Moody just a while before the school year started, at one of the meetings? Yes, yes he had.

No tic then.

"Who's paranoid and obsessive now?" Severus wondered if hearing voices was a sure sign of insanity. Probably was.

Severus shook himself out of his frame of thought, and glanced once more at Moody, who was now looking at the Potter brat. Probably looking out for the Golden Boy, as Dumbledore had requested of him at the start of term.

He must have been scowling, he noticed a couple of third years scramble a foot or ten away from him. "What's the matter? Afraid that Dumbledore doesn't trust you anymore?" He briefly wondered if there was any potion to stop voices in the head, then again, why blame the voice for saying what he feared to think for himself consciously?

He sighed. The only reason he had survived his short spell in Azkaban during his interrogation, was Albus. In what were the darkest moments of his life, Albus had been his sole ray of hope, clear blue eyes, sad and sympathetic, looking at him through the bars of the holding cell. It had kept him from giving up, and dying of shame and despair.

He was shaken from these terrible thoughts by the Headmaster's voice asking everyone to settle down. Looking around, Severus spotted Potter and his side-kicks sitting toward the back, surrounded by a moat of red hair. At least the boy had loyal friends.

Severus almost rolled his eyes. Almost.

He paid only partial attention to the selected three. He had had his guesses. Usually the bravest and strongest in magic were chosen, and he could guess well. Krum, that big oaf, the Diggory boy, and the frail looking Ms. Delacour. He applauded perfunctorily and wore an air of mild interest, but within, Severus burned with curiosity. He was quite looking forward to the challenges and excitement the contest posed. An onlooker might have thought Severus was driven to boredom.

It was then that he saw it. He was the first to notice it.

The goblet, which should have been peaceful, was agitated. The flame flickered and turned an angry red. People instinctively looked on, Albus noticed the shocked surprise that had been plain on his face, he thought, and turned to the goblet.

Albus was worried.

The goblet spat out, as if choked, and then expelled an unwanted object. A piece of half burned parchment flew to the floor.

For a moment, everyone seemed to have been under a mass 'Stupefy'. The Headmaster moved forward, hesitation in his steps, to pick up the parchment. When Albus instinctively turned to look at him, the fear and concern he saw in Albus' eyes made his heart speed up and his shoulders tense. One must understand that what bodes ill for the greatest Wizard since Merlin, bodes ill for all who trust him.

"Harry Potter," the voice was so soft; Severus strained to hear it, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Harry Potter," the Headmaster repeated, now composed, yet angry. Severus' eyes found Potter, who looked an image of fear. His eyes had grown wide and his mouth hung open like a gaping fish out of water. He supposed that's how Potter felt at this moment. Like a fish out of water.

Potter made no move to stand. The Granger girl practically hauled him out of his seat and pushed him toward the Headmaster. The silence hung thick in the Great Hall; one could cut it with a knife. Malevolence seemed to tinge the silence.

Potter stumbled, hesitated and walked a little unsteadily toward the Headmaster. Albus' normally gentle gaze had sharpened to a point, and seemed to pierce and rend Potter, as he directed Potter to the ante-room, where the other challengers waited. Severus wanted to believe that this was all Potter's doing, but it was difficult.

As Potter passed him, Severus was surprised once again this evening.

Emerald eyes looked up at him, pleading with him, urging him to do something, say something sharp and biting, as if hearing Severus berate him would give him a grip on reality. It would be something normal. Severus was lost, in those unnaturally green eyes, in the unprecedented request he saw there.

Something must have cracked in that icy gaze of his, for the boy looked away. Perhaps he couldn't bear to see pity. "So much like you," that not-so-snide voice whispered in his head. For once, it seemed not to mock him, or taunt him, but just state the disturbing obvious thought.

In every day that Severus saw Potter, the lesser Potter seemed to be like his father, and a little more like himself.


	4. Chapter 3

**A Potions Master's Perspective – 3**

He was nervous.

His palms were sweaty and his wand occasionally shot sparks. He shifted it to his other hand, clenching and unclenching his free hand convulsively.

"Eager are we?" The soft voice next to him almost made him jump.

Almost.

Just as well, his nervousness was taken as enthusiasm. Obviously, Severus Snape was never nervous.

He turned his expressionless alabaster face, and found himself looking into eyes the colour of glaciers in the mountain shade. Like cold rain on a bright day. He answered with a smirk, not trusting his voice to be wholly void of emotion.

Lucius, his old friend, his once mentor and now comrade. Severus sneered at the word.

"Mentor and comrade indeed," he thought to himself, carefully searching those icy depths for a sign that Severus was not alone on this side of the war. He hated to have betrayed Lucius.

Oblivious to Severus' traitorous thoughts, Lucius' cold exterior broke into one of warmth, as he placed a hand on Severus' shoulder. The small but genuine smiles that broke out on their faces took years off their ages. Severus felt a slight squeeze on his shoulder and saw Lucius tilt his head a little, beckoning him to follow.

They fell into step and walked in companionable silence, a little distance from the groups of Death Eaters milling about. They walked along the cliffs overlooking the vast grounds and forests surrounding the ancient castle, breathtakingly beautiful in the brightening dawn.

Silence prevailed between them as they stood watching the sun slowly creep along the horizon, bathing them in the first light of the day. Severus felt somewhat guilty that this perfect day was going to be ruined very soon.

"Perhaps the red sun shall not be in vain," he thought to himself, still looking out toward Hogwarts' castle.

A slight rustle of robes made Severus turn toward his companion, and was surprised to see him seated at the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the steep sides. Then again, it was almost time for the final battle, and perhaps the thought of getting his pristine robes dirty was moot point for Lucius.

Severus was probably the only person who was allowed to see this side of the usually stiff and arrogant Malfoy. This was really when Malfoy melted away, and Lucius emerged, even if for a short while.

The war had changed them all. Voldemort had changed them all.

Quietly, Severus sat beside the older man and waited. They had nothing to do anyway, but wait for orders. Lucius would speak when he was ready. Severus took a minute to study the other man's profile, before turning his eyes forward.

He drank in all the serene magnificence around him, the fluttering flags on the turrets, the golden glow of the early morning, the splash on the lake's surface that had to be the giant squid. A fond feeling, mingled with sadness passed over him. He had long since accepted that he would not live through the war. He knew the lives he had cost with his stupidity were not just appeased by saving the brat's hide one too many times. It had to be his soul at the altar, for any hope of redemption. His heart was heavy with the realization that this might be the last time he would see his beloved home, his place of refuge.

This haven that gave hope for the hopeless.

He could not stop the wistful sigh that escaped his lips.

As if reading his mind, Lucius patted his shoulder and said to no one in particular, "it was my home too."

Their gazes locked for a moment, and Severus was surprised to see sorrow that he expected in his own, reflected in Lucius' eyes. Moments later, seeming to gain some courage, Lucius cast a _Muffiliato _in an almost whisper. Severus was instantly wary and caution. What could Lucius want, that was so confidential?

"I always thought this as my home Severus, even with the luxury offered to me otherwise. It was Hogwarts that brought me happiness." Severus quietly acknowledged that sentiment; It was true for a lot of the people who passed through it's gates. Though he never had luxury outside, his happiest days had been at Hogwarts. Many of them with Lucius.

He remembered, in vivid detail, how he had been a trembling wreck when he stood for the sorting, how relief had flowed through him when the Hat cried "Slytherin!" and how that relief had evaporated when he stood facing the Slytherin table for the first time. Already, the students at the table had taken in his scruffy shoes, slightly faded robes and his greasy hair. Their expressions of interest had faded into one of weariness. He remembered the heaviness in his feet, till he looked up into the silver depths and saw acceptance in them. When the blonde haired prefect had patted him on the back and seated Severus next to him, he had felt a little better. "It may not last," young Severus had though to himself, "this acceptance. But it will be enough for now." Severus had broken into his first real smile since the sorting began.

Across the hall, he had seen Lily at the Gryffindor table, and they had shared a silent apology, and also a promise. Hogwarts had been and still was one of the best things in his, life few as they were. Lily was… he stopped short, unable to complete the statement.

Realizing that he had drifted off in thought, he brought himself back to the moment, only to find Lucius looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

"Lucius?" he prompted, re-checking his mental shields and the silencing charm. He could see the slight shimmer of the spell surrounding them.

"Severus, this may be the last opportunity I get to spare a few carefree moments," Lucius paused, then shifted to partially face the other man. "I know that I have fallen in ranks with the Dark Lord, but I hope I have not fallen too low in your ranks as a friend." At this, he looked up, and onyx met silver. Severus let all the warmth show in his eyes, and Lucius' breath caught, before he turned away. Severus let Lucius compose himself. It must have cost the proud man a great deal to say those words.

Severus waited.

"You were the only friend I had," Severus paused, battling with his instincts, and then continued, "apart from Lily. I owe you a lot Lucius." He saw Lucius smile and shake his head. "You owe me nothing. I have long since put myself in your debt. For Narcissa, for my son… for me." Lucius stopped and drew a breath. "I realized I never thanked you for it, so I want you to know that my gratitude is sincere."

Severus felt a lump in his throat. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't foreseen the depth of his friend's feelings.

"Think nothing of it, Lucius," Severus continued after he steadied his composure. "We have always looked out for each other… my friend."

"We have, haven't we?" Lucius smiled slightly, probably remembering all the times they had hexed the marauders or pulled pranks in the Great Hall. Those were the days.

The silence was comfortable, and Severus relaxed a little more.

"If," the blonde halted. "If I don't make it, please… look after my family," here, he took one of Severus' hands in both of his own, "Our family, Severus. You have always been and will be family. You know this."

Severus nodded and looked at the castle. "I will do what I can."

"Don't say it Lucius!" Severus hissed, when he realized Lucius was about to say something. The older man just nodded and let his hand go.

"It has been an honour to have you as my friend… my family," Severus said finally.

They sat, enjoying the breeze and the sun for a few minutes. Nothing need be said. It was the strengthening of an old friendship, an acceptance of possibilities, and tying up of loose ends.

It was enough.

The mark burned a little, signaling it was time. Their master called for them.

The two men, old friends, dusted off their robes as they made ready to leave. All around them were sounds of apparition. In unspoken agreement, both waited till the rest of the group disappeared, before turning to say their goodbyes.

An embrace, brief but binding. Silent apologies and grateful thanks. Unsaid words or prayer. They stood in peace.

"I wish things had turned out differently," Lucius spoke suddenly, "that we had made different decisions; that we did not have to choose life or death. I wish I had listened to you," he broke off.

"Every man makes mistakes, Lucius. We were boys, young and impressionable. True, we could have chosen otherwise, but the promise of power was unbeatable in our minds. When Slytherins were tormented and treated unfairly, when we were a minority; the hopes drawn by such promises were what seemed true."

"It is not a choice anymore, Lucius. I have run out of choices." He turned to look at the gathering crowd below the edge, at the borders of the forest.

"It is out of our hands. Today, there must be a decision made. Such finality," Lucius sighed, and added, "Goodbye my friend, it has been a privilege."

"Likewise," Severus knew what he was going to say may be a bad choice, but he had to try. "All hope is not lost. Do what your heart says, and hear the voice of reason. Look to what matters most to you, and you might have a hope of redemption yet. Goodbye and good luck, my dear friend."

Severus turned on his heel and apparated, leaving Lucius to ponder his words.

He appeared at the head of the assembled forces. The LeStranges , Severus, McNair, and Nott were at the front lines, to direct the battle front. His mask and his battle robes were ready, and he waited for the Dark Lord to give his orders. He was in the process of planning out how to complete his tasks, when there was a barely perceptible touch on his shoulder and a whispered "thank you" at his back. Severus inclined his head, and smiled inside his cold metal mask, before he gathered his thoughts and stepped into the forest. There was work to do.

"Wish me luck Albus, you blasted old man. If that brat does not succeed, the Merlin help us all." Severus could now see the castle through the trees.

"Wish for your son and I, good luck my Lily, so that I may die in peace, knowing he will fulfill his destiny."

Severus fingered the torn half of the picture in his pocket which he had found at Grimauld Place. He remembered Lily's laughing face, her emerald eyes and fiery hair. He remembered her temper that matched her hair, the love that warmed his soul, and everything that was just Lily.

He remembered.

His warm memories were interrupted by the blazing in his left arm. The Dark Lord was calling for him at the shrieking shack. He looked back, yelled for the group to go ahead, gave them a perfunctory "Do or die" speech and quickly apparated to meet one of his Masters.

"Always," he whispered to the night, before blinking out of existence.


	5. Chapter 4

**A Potions Master's Perspective – Part 4**

"That toad!" Severus fumed, "High Inquisitor indeed! Who does she think she is? No, don't answer that." Severus raised a hand to stop the Headmaster from saying anything.

The Headmaster merely chuckled.

"Think this is funny, do you?" Severus sneered. He drew himself to his full height and glared at the Headmaster sitting behind his desk. "Perhaps you won't find it as amusing when she takes over that chair you sit in," Severus paused, "Albus!"

"Calm down Severus. Yes, you are right, she will soon take over as the Headmistress." Albus twinkled at the gob-smacked Potions' Master, " I have to discuss certain matters with you now."

Severus' jaw clenched, a vein in his temple throbbed, and it looked like he had several unpleasant things to say, at the tip of his tongue.

Albus heard the window panes shake.

Severus never heard the twittering and tinkling of Albus' prized collection of seemingly useless things, as they rattled and panicked within their cabinets.

Albus' blue eyes lost their twinkle, and Fawkes trilled a worried note.

"Severus…"

The cup of tea Severus had been glaring at, shattered, and tea spilled over the table and dripped onto the carpet and parchment on the table.

Albus seemed to grow in stature and glow. Magical energy swirled around him in wisps of blue and white.

"Severus!" He boomed.

That seemed to snap the younger wizard out of his consuming anger, he looked a bit fearful as he looked at the Headmaster, frowning at him from where he stood, a few feet away.

Severus still felt the tickle of magical energy, even if Albus had calmed down himself. Shining blue eyes seemed to sap all the rage out of him, and Severus slumped into an armchair that had helpfully moved right behind him, nudging the back of his knees.

He held his head in his hands and muttered something under his breath. The teacup was whole again, no tea stained the carpet, nor parchment. Nothing seemed out of place. He could feel the burning gaze of the Headmaster at the top of his bowed head, and he sighed. It was very rare that he lost control like this.

He was being nudged by something warm, and he turned his head slightly to see a steaming cup of Earl Grey floating by his side. He snorted softly, and raised his head. Albus always thought tea solved everything.

Severus was tempted to believe him.

He took the cup of tea and wrapped his long, potions' stained fingers around it. The warmth seeping into his fingers helped a little, and he inhaled the crisp smell. It must have had something in it, for Severus felt better. Just.

He stared into the block liquid, as if held answers to his questions. Perhaps he should check the tea leaves…

He shook such irrational thoughts out of his mind before he grew a weakness for incense and cooking sherry. Tea leaves indeed.

Albus waited patiently for the younger man to regain his composure.

"She," Severus halted, as if speaking was a difficulty, "she poured salt in open wounds, Albus. The Defense position. Of that she spoke. Rubbing it in my face. 'Unsuccessful'," he snorted, " that's what she said I was. Not for lack of trying, or ability, I am quite sure," he spat out the words, casting a dark look at the Headmaster.

"Now now, Severus," Albus said in a placating tone, "you know it is not your qualifications that are found in any way or form lacking; quite the contrary; you are most qualified among all the people I know, for teaching that class. I also hope you do not think I trust you any less. I trust you with my life, you know that well."

Severus said nothing, but sipped on his tea, with a distinctly stony face. Albus shook his head in disapproval, but continued, "You are very well aware of the reasons I cannot give you the position, regardless of how much I want to." Snape only nodded in response, a slight action that would have been missed if Albus were not staring at him.

"I'm sorry, Severus."

"Do not apologize, Albus," Severus hissed with such vehemence, it surprised the other man. "It was not my intention," he said more gently.

He set the teacup on the table, sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. Resting his elbows on the arm rests, he steepled his fingers in front of his face. His hair curtained his face as he looked at the gnarled hands of his friend and mentor. When he looked up at the headmaster, Severus seemed every bit of the arrogant, cold, intimidating man he was known to be, sitting regally in the chair.

It didn't fool Albus one bit.

He only laughed and all the tension seemed to leave Severus' body, though he sat stiff and looked slightly bored.

"We were to discuss certain matters, Headmaster," Severus drawled, and raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"Ah, yes," Albus stroked his beard, "How goes remedial potions?"

"As dismal as ever. Potter seems every bit as disinclined to learning, as was his father. Seems to enjoy getting the essence of the dungeon floor on his knees and arse," Severus smirked.

"Give the young man some time, he might even surprise you, I daresay."

"Only you can have hope for the hopeless, Albus. A two headed basilisk may yet be born."

The Headmaster sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "As much as you pretend to detest the boy, we both know otherwise."

"Who says it is pretence?"

The look Albus leveled at Severus only mad the other man turn away.

"Don't Albus."

Albus only shook his head sadly and changed the topic. No point arguing with a determined Snape.

"When Dolores takes over as Headmistress in my absence," Severus looked at the headmaster sharply, but Albus only ploughed on, " I will need you to pay extra heed to Harry's well being."

"Of course, Headmaster. Anything else?" sarcasm dripped from the words, "Perhaps I should help with the re-decoration of this office? Plastered pink and cat-friendly?"

"Severus! Your sense of humor is unrivaled, for those who understand it."

"Why thank you Albus. If I live through this, perhaps I will start my own traveling show; 'Severus' Snarky Snippets' or some such ghastly thing. My shining personality can only help."

Albus couldn't hold it back anymore. He cracked up and laughed till tears streamed down his aged face. Severus waited till the Headmaster calmed down enough from imagining a performing Snape, he shuddered slightly at the embarrassing and possibly ridiculously clad image of himself. Knowing Albus, there was probably a lot of purple, gold, and other equally nauseating colors. He winced.

But he also couldn't stop a smile, small but genuine, from curling his lips. It had been a while since Albus had relaxed enough to actually enjoy a joke, let alone laugh heartily.

Ever since the Dark Lord had raised his snake-like head, the lines on Albus face had deepened, and only Minerva, other than himself, were privy to exactly how tired Albus really was. He felt the self-ridicule was worth it this time.

It was the least he could do to make things a little lighter, for the man who had welcomed him with open arms when the whole world had shunned him. Yes, there were many times he felt like throttling the old man himself, but his faults were inconsequential, compared to the vast forgiving nature Albus had.

Shame welled within him, and Severus stared at his hands, resting on his crossed knees. He didn't deserve the trust and friendship.

He certainly didn't deserve the forgiveness.

Maybe his face reflected his emotions, maybe his eyes showed the flare of self loathing, or maybe Albus simply knew him that well; Severus was startled out his thoughts by a soft tough on his head. He closed his eyes and shamefully took comfort from the only person he trusted completely.

(To be continued)


	6. Chapter 5

**A Potions Master's Perspective- 5**

"The boy is to return then?"

"Yes, however loathe I am to send him."

"The boy is mentally unstable now. How can you even think of leaving him alone? All summer to top that!"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you cared for the boy."

"Will you stop making this about me, Headmaster? It is about the precious golden boy, not the washed out Death Eater!"

Twinkling blue clashed with glittering onyx. It was the onyx eyes that turned away first.

"Albus," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, staving off the headache that he felt forming.

"It's alright you know. No one will think any less of you."

An indelicate snort escaped the rigid man, swathed in black, wrapping his robes about him as if they were his protection.

"Any lesser you mean. Not that anyone thinks very much or a little about me, mind you."

"Severus," Albus looked sad and every one of his numerous years, "the staff like you, you know." He ignored the derisive word that met that statement, and ploughed on, "even if you are the prickliest pear on the tree, so to speak."

"Of course." The accompanying disbelief could be cut with a knife.

Albus Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. It was no use. They had been down that road. He just waited. Severus would speak when he was ready. Sometimes he wondered if that day would ever come, when Severus would speak his heart. Somehow he doubted it. Severus was about as open as… well, never mind.

"The boy is being abused, Albus." The words were so soft, the Headmaster almost missed them.

"What?" Albus asked sharply.

Severus sneered. "What? The omniscient Albus Dumbledore doesn't know this?"

"Severus," the word came as warning.

It was the Potions' Master's turn to sigh. "His memories," he said, as if it would explain everything.

Actually it did explain everything. The only place where one hid secrets, and hopes. It explained Harry's extreme reluctance to go back to Privet Drive. How he begged each summer to stay.

Albus felt so foolish. He had let the boy down. It was little wonder the boy was distancing himself. It was so obvious, and Albus had missed it.

Severus saw the expressions flitting across the older wizard's face, and how those wrinkles seemed to be more pronounced every minute. He wanted to comfort him, but Severus stood his ground. It was not the first time the Grand and Illustrious Dumbledore, had missed such glaringly obvious signs.

Severus quickly quashed the thought about how this seemed déjà vu. He would not watch quietly while another one was used up like a pawn. Cast aside when he was of no use.

"_Making sure he does not end up like you?Bitter, lonely and bastardly?" _ He could hope that the totally uncontrollable voice inside his head would really, really shut up.

Of course it was too much to hope for. _"Oh dear, this means trouble. You know what this is."_

Stop it. Don't go there.

Thankfully the headmaster chose this moment to interrupt.

"Severus, I know the confidentiality between you and Harry in this matter is binding, but I need to know."

The man in question took a deep breath and turned towards the Headmaster. The tiredness etched in Severus' face surprised Albus.

"I cannot tell you, Headmaster, but hear you this. It is not conducive to a boy's physical, mental and magical stability or growth, to be raised in a home averse to the existence of Magic. Nor do I even remotely agree, that magic can be starved or beaten out of a boy so young and vulnerable, no matter how long these… practices are applied." He risked a look at Albus' face, which seemed to have lost all emotion.

"I also absolutely condemn the use of abusive language on anyone who has had no choice in what he/she has grown to be. It cannot be helpful to any youth who already has so much on his/her mind, causing the young person to discard any semblance of childhood, imagined or otherwise. They would grow up too soon to be healthy."

Severus took a deep breath. There was no discomfort, which meant that he had managed to explain what he needed to without over stepping the boundaries. No matter what the Potter brat thought, Severus was not that cruel to make the brat's privacy a matter of flippancy. Especially when he knew how that felt.

Severus was sorely tempted to say something about the episodes of "Harry Hunting" he had seen, or the cupboard. But if he were to judge by the chips of ice that the Headmaster's eyes had turned into, or by the palpable anger flowing from the man, he would say it was not a wise thing to do. The air was crackling already.

Besides, he had the sense of preserving other's privacy, even if the insolent brat didn't.

"_Insolent…or ignorant?"_

He mercilessly quashed that voice behind louder thoughts. He could try to drown it out.

Meanwhile, Albus had calmed down enough to notice the play of emotions on Severus' face. Seeming to sense the shift of attention, Severus looked up, his face now only a mask of alabaster.

Stone.

"He blames me of course," Disdain, spite and anger.

"Seve-"

"You can sense and see the barely contained anger, the intense hate, the knowing disgust. Mark my words, Albus, left alone, this will brew into a storm that may cost you more than you know. You cannot fathom it."

"I am aware, Severus. However, there is little I can do."

Another snort.

"Also, at this point, he probably hates me close to how much he does you, my boy." Severus hated that title.

"Easier to blame a sarcastic, sadistic, greasy bastard of a Death Eater, than the wondrous lemon-drop wielding grandfather-figure."

Albus actually had the gall to chuckle, causing Severus to growl in warning.

Suddenly, the mirth gave way to a heavy feeling.

"Isn't that what you set out to do Severus? To make him hate you as much as humanly possible?"

It was only working too well.

Severus chose to stay silent. He would not justify that with an answer. He only wrapped his robes tighter around himself and walked to the window overlooking the grounds. The night was beautiful. He unconsciously noted that the full moon was only roundabouts a week away.

He caught a sliver of his reflection in the glass, and saw only the ghost of a man. Where was the man he once was? Instead, there was only a broken thing left. Broken beyond fixing. His own doing of course. Fool once, Fool for a lifetime.

For a while, neither man spoke, each battling with his own demons. Somehow, night brought them renewed strength and vigour, to raise their ugly heads with less resistance than the light of day gave to them.

Severus sometimes dreamed of how easy it would be to get caught in one of those moments of weakness. It would be so simple. Just a swish and flick, two little words.

Rest, forever.

"_And what of peace? What of honour and chivalry? What of courage?"_

"_What of hope?"_

And each time, Severus answered those questions by living and being strong.

He was no coward.

Bravery might be a fool's choice, but he had long since established that he was a fool. It was honour that mattered to him more than this oftentimes meaningless life.

"What of the boy, Albus?"

"He will return."

Severus whipped his head around to meet the Headmaster's slightly perturbed blue gaze with narrowed eyes.

"I understand the gravity of my decision, Severus. However, the protection that the house offers him is more important."

"Lily…"

Albus smiled and nodded. Severus only huffed and shook his head.

"If only that mangy DogFather of the precious golden boy had kept his flea ridden hide out of the ministry that night..."

"What has been done is done, Severus."

"Quite."

"I will pay a visit to the muggles soon."

"Indeed."

So, Severus was in one of those moods again, Albus chuckled inwardly.

"Lemon Drop?"

The only answer he got was cursing in different languages, followed by the resounding slam of the office door, billowing robes making the exit dramatic in a way only Severus could achieve.

Sometimes, Albus thought to himself, he could be excruciatingly aggravating to Severus.

He enjoyed every minute of it.

The headmaster laughed out loud.


	7. Chapter 6 part 1

**A Potions Master's Perspective – 6.**

It was so damn difficult. It took every last bit of his well practiced reserve not to do the one thing he swore at his Mother's grave.

He would not cry.

His feet carried hi, as if they had a mind of their own.

Through the grounds, across the drenched grass. Muffled thuds of foot falls.

Almost there, he told himself. We're not out of the line of fire yet.

Screams. Falling Stones. Cruel laughter. Terrifying growls.

The rain.

Always the damn rain.

Faintly, their fleeing shadows were illuminated by the burst of colour behind them. His mouth curved up into a bitter, cold smile. It was almost like fireworks.

His left arm ached. The Dark Lord was pleased.

The hair on the back of his neck stood, and he knew even before he heard the slopping footsteps on the wet grass that were not theirs, or the frenzied shouts.

Potter.

But how?

That question was left unanswered, as he hastily put up a shield, half turning, still running.

Fleeing. Like cowards.

Vaguely, he realized that the blonde beside him was afraid, yet he didn't stop to look or hear. He just ran like a hunted animal. He felt amused by the comparison.

"Keep going, the boundary is just beyond the trees," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. The blonde just jerked his head and put all his energy into sprinting those last few yards.

Severus slowed and turned around.

Potter stopped, a brief look of surprise crossing his face.

So unguarded, thought Severus. In the moonlight, he could read the boy like an open book.

The features contorted into hate, disgust, pain, anguish, betrayal, and … regret?

Before he could analyze the unexpected emotion, a spell bounced off his shield. The boy was being verbal. Severus snarled as he pushed off another pathetic attempt with a bored flick of his wrist.

"Is that the best you've got, Potter?" He snarled and hexed the boy silently. He could smell the damp smell of singed flesh cooled by rain. Stupid, Stupid boy!

"You should learn to duel better, boy. I can hear every move you're thinking of making. OCCLUDE!" He roared, not half caring if anyone else was listening.

Potter seemed momentarily dazed and confused as he landed flat on his back.

The rain pelted down on him as Severus moved forward mencingly. The hair on his arms stood as if in warning, and he acted in haste.

"Cru-" Potter was slammed back into the grass, the wind pushed out of his lungs, till he could not speak the curse.

"No unforgivables from you, boy!"

Potter grit his teeth and tried to stand. Severus could see that his eyes were red, his face tear stained. He struggled to adjust and clear those blasted glasses.

"That imbecile better get rid of those soon, he thought, and raked his wet hair out of his face. Severus didn't pay attention to the scratches his fingernails were leaving across his face. The pain was welcome. He idly wondered if one could crucio onself?

He turned and resumed running, though at a lesser pace. He had to get out of here. His guilt and self loathing and grief threatened to overwhelm him.

Almost there, he thought.

"Stop and fight me, you coward!"

That did it. The boy's mulish anger would be the death of them all.

Severus spun around and sliced through all the hexes and curses the boy was throwing at him with reckless abandon.

"I am NOT a COWARD!"

Potter was stunned by the trembling rage behind those words, than the force with which they were hurled back at him. As if he were surprised that a low, sarcastic silky voice was not the only thing the dour potions master was capable of.

He was very sure he could not trust his voice to be devoid of emotion now.

He didn't give a pickled bat's arse about it.

Severus concentrated on controlling his rage. Albus would never forgive him if he hexed the boy into oblivion and saved the Dark Lord the trouble.

Albus.

The grief threatened to burst his heart open. Ripped from his chest and gone with the man he had just murdered.

Oh Merlin, he was a monster.

He longingly thought of the last few yards into the forest, where he could finally leave and hope to die a painful death.

Hagrid's hut burst into flame.

"You know nothing,boy! Practice is needed for your abysmal dueling skills. Try not be so verbal Potter! Stop being such an open book. Stop wearing your heart on your sleeve!"

The boy hardly heard Severus' words.

Severus summoned Potter's wand to himself and it slapped into his open hand with a sting. He resisted the urge to snap the bloody thing in half.

Hey stared at each other in silence for a moment. Faint pops of apparition could be heard from beyond the trees.

The rain still poured. The splatter of water drops was loud in the almost silence.

He felt the wards collapse.

It was as if the magic from the castle was fading.

Like the light that had faded from Albus' blue eyes.

Stop. Please.

Severus fled, throwing the boy's wand toward him.

He left the anguished sobs of the grieving boy behind him.

Cry for both of us Harry.

He cut through the undergrowth of the forest, even if he could have just vanished from the ward-free castle grounds. He tasted salt on his lips. He wasn't even aware of the tears. He stopped and turned once again this night, and saw Potter on his knees, face buried in his hands.

One last look at his beloved castle.

One final farewell to Albus.

Time stood still and then moved forward, agonizingly slow. He could see the boy's silhouette and felt the piercing gaze. He vaguely heard Potter's voice yelling at Hagrid the words for the spell of water, as his walls crumbled and a cracked scream ripped from his throat, fading in his ears as he blinked out of sight.

(TBC)


	8. Chapter 6 part 2

**A Potions Master's Perspective – 7.**

_Time stood still and then moved forward, agonizingly slow. He could see the boy's silhouette and felt the piercing gaze. He vaguely heard Potter's voice yelling at Hagrid the words for the spell of water, as his walls crumbled and a cracked scream ripped from his throat, fading in his ears as he blinked out of sight._

He landed painfully on his knees, and he understood that he had brought himself to the only place of assured solitude for the short while he could bear the pain of ignoring his Master's call.

His broken sobs were swallowed by the wind chilling his drenched wretched body.

He didn't care for now. Here, he knew only tears, cries, pain and the cold, cold wind.

"Réquiem ætérnam dona eis, Dómine,  
et lux perpétua lúceat eis.  
Requiéscant in pace. Amen."

Words of long forgotten prayers he intoned. He could think of nothing else to say.

Severus didn't know how long he had been there. How long he had been kneeling there, softly speaking the words he never thought he'd remember.

Tracing the words in the stone, over and over again.

_Eileen Prince_

His mind wandered back to the tower. To Albus.

"Please…" he had begged. At that moment, Severus had thought his chest would burst into flames. He remembered the burn as it threaded back into his body.

Two words he said, and yet another tear into his soul.

"And what of mine, Albus?" He had asked.

A bark of bitter laughter broke free. He had no soul. He had sold his soul to the devil once, and no amount of penance would bring it back to him.

He was afraid to close his eyes.

There was the green light, the light leaving Albus' eyes, the peaceful look on his face. He floated, like a feather from Fawkes.

Resplendent, even in death.

The ever piercing black eyes were dulled. His mentor, dead by his hand. Twice before he had felt such despair, and each time he had prayed that he may never have to see it again.

Of course life was so ironic. It killed the good people and let the washed out misanthropic bastards live.

"Forgive me, Albus."

It was all he had left to say. With one last caress to the grave, he turned and walked. His home was far, but he needed to walk. He needed to prepare himself for what was in store. So far, it was all going as Albus expected it.

Had expected it.

Quietly, he went, tamping down his grief, locking it away with the guilt and despair, directing his rage toward the next set of steps to help finish what they had started.

Pain, he left. It was his own, and he needed it. Over and over, the scene flashed before his eyes. Those few seconds. The glare of the Morsmordre that lit up the brooms.

Wait… brooms? What? Two brooms, he was quite sure.

Everything fell into place. Potter could have only chased him that fast if he was on a broom, or he had been right behind him. That's how Potter knew!

Severus growled out loud.

"Albus, you manipulative old coot! You twinkling demon! The boy saw everything! Blast that thrice damned invisibility cloak to the farthest point past Hades!"

Severus was breathing hard. No one else was anywhere close to hear him. He should be more careful.

He shuddered t think what would have ensued, had that idiotic, impulsive boy been discovered. Imbeciles, the lot of them!

"Bloody Gryffindors," he muttered to himself, cursing every one in general as he walked on, head bent in concentration.

He could see his home in the distance. He snorted, knowing the rat would await him, whining about the injustice of it all.

And Draco. He would hex the boy nine ways into next week. The air crackled around him, his rage waiting for a reason to break free. The Malfoys were bloody lucky that Draco had the best Occlumens in Britain for a Godfather. It was probably the only reason Draco was still alive.

Severus sighed. He was surrounded by idiots.

Calm enough to face what was left of the night, he entered the tiny lane, closer to Spinner's End with each broad step. The house was unplottable, thank Merlin.

The gate swung open on its own accord, the wards having recognized him. Somewhere in the house, the dim light from a few candles threw the house into an eerie glow.

He threw the door open, and almost immediately there were muffled footsteps from the back of the kitchen. He closed the door and rested his forehead on the gnarled wood for a moment. Draco was watching him from the kitchen entrance when he turned back around. He didn't seem surprised by the delay in Severus' return.

The blonde scrutinized the older wizard for a few moments, a cool and detached expression plastered on.

Seeming satisfied with what he found, whatever that was, Draco nodded once and turned sharply, moving back into the tiny kitchen.

"There's tea," Draco threw over his shoulder, not waiting or caring for Severus' answer. Severus' jaw twitched with his rising irritation with the arrogant self centered brat. He watched the stiff retreating back for a moment before following with an ill concealed sigh.

Tea sounded like the only sane option.


End file.
